I love to knit. There’s a comfort to it that I can’t entirely explain. The repetition of weaving the yarn around a needle and then forming a stitch creates a sense of purpose, of achievement, of progress. When your entire world is unraveling, you tend to crave order, and I found it in knitting. In fact, I’ve even read that knitting can lower stress more effectively than medication. And I guess for me it was a better approach, because there was something tangible to show for it. Maybe because knitting gave me a sense of action, of doing something. I didn’t know what tomorrow held, but with a pair of needles in my hands and a ball of yarn in my lap, I was confident I could handle whatever lay ahead. Each stitch was an accomplishment. Some days all I could manage was a single row, but I had the satisfaction of that one small achievement. It made a difference to me. A very big difference.
The Shop on Blossom Street, Debbie Macomber
While I didn’t really love the book, I could relate to this passage. This is definitely the way I felt when I really picked up knitting after Owen was born. And this was before we even knew he had autism. There was always something different about Owen. He was probably the "easiest" baby we had. He slept through the night much sooner than the other two. And he was very content during the day to swing or bounce or jump. I guess, he required very little attention. As he got a little older, and could sit, he would play with his ring stacker endlessly. We are talking over and over again. Next he moved on to shape sorters. And then it was puzzles. Kevin and I were so impressed with his puzzling abilities. Literally.
Owen, like Gracie, had chronic ear infections. So when he didn’t answer to his name–ever–we assumed it was his ears. Our pediatrician was not an advocate for tubes. Owen eventually got them, thanks to an audiologist who was shocked by the 25 or more ear infections he had in his less than 2 years. Early Intervention in Massachusetts was a disaster too. They don’t "diagnose" and our non-verbal, non-eye contact making child received 30 minutes of speech every other week.
All the while I knit. I, too, had that sense of purpose, of achievement, of progress. It has truly kept me sane in the midst of this puzzling world of autism. Speaking of puzzling, Owen’s latest stimulatory behavior is his reflection. He likes to look in mirrors, door knobs, televisions…anywhere. Now, what is the purpose of this post? Well, my camera cord is missing. Kevin says it is behind the printer, in the land of unknown and wild dust bunnies. I had some boring pictures to post of endless stockinette stitch on the Dale Salt Lake City sweater and Devan. I cast on for Devan last night and my tail was ridiculously long, so I went for knitting the back first. No sense in wasting a good cast on tail. Here’s to small achievements and big differences–of many kinds.